


Traditions Old And New

by Bethann, Minniemoggie



Series: Legendary Friendship [17]
Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Angst/Comfort, Father Figures, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Friendship, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Spanking, Yuletide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-23
Updated: 2014-07-28
Packaged: 2018-02-10 02:20:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2007348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bethann/pseuds/Bethann, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minniemoggie/pseuds/Minniemoggie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During their first Yule on Tol Eressea, Legolas and Gimli recall also the last one in Middle Earth</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please read the introduction to the story Legendary Friendship in order to understand our alternate universe and our version of the Gimli/Legolas relationship. You have to accept our a/u ideas for our stories to work!

I hold the needle up to the light with one hand as I wet the end of the thread that is in the other and then I carefully slip the thread through the eye. Even though my eyes are not quite so sharp as they once were, my hand is still steady and I feel a small satisfaction at having accomplished this task. Next I pick up a red berry and push the needle through it then slide it all the way down to the knot I’ve tied at the end of the thread. Making a holly berry garland is not something one would expect to see a dwarven warrior doing and it is something I have not personally done since I was a young child, but the fact is I am desperate. I am willing to do anything I can think of to keep my companion engaged in something-anything-that will take some of that desperate look from his eyes, for this is our last Winter Solstice that we will celebrate this side of the sea. In five months we take ship.

This morning when I mentioned helping with the Solstice decorations, Legolas had smiled weakly at me and I decided to interpret that as real interest and began the preparations immediately. The holly branches themselves were cut and gathered by others and brought in to us for it will not do for my elfling to get overly chilled and I do not like to leave his side often these days. So now the sitting room here in Eryn gîl Ithil is a veritable sea of green leaves and red berries and so here I sit creating garlands to wind around the fir branches already hanging on our fireplace to make the place look suitably festive. My friend is only in charge of gathering the berries from the branches as I am certain he would find trying to thread a needle through the berries more frustrating than enjoyable. His hands tremble so these days that his fine motor skills are severely impaired and that would be just one more reminder of how much he has lost. 

The winter has been hard on him and when I look at him now I could weep over his condition. In spite of my best efforts he has become painfully thin and frail again. His hair has become dull and brittle. He has taken to wearing it loose on most days for he finds it difficult to make his hands work well enough to braid it correctly. His face is gaunt with dark circled eyes, but worst of all are the eyes themselves. Once merry and full of mischief, they are now haunted and terrified. It breaks my heart to see him suffering so, for there is no other I care for much. It is not fair either, for he is barely more than a child. He should be enjoying the prime years of his life, not wasting away like an ancient dying mortal. I can only pray that when we make our journey in the spring, he will finally be relieved of this torment. That is my greatest hope, though in my darkest moments I have to admit that the hope is growing dimmer as the winter days pass. 

Though I have to swallow the lump that is growing in my throat, I do my best to keep up a pleasant chatter. I talk of other Solstice days we’ve spent together and of some from my childhood. I comment on the festive scent of the fir that we’ve gathered in bundles throughout the house and of how kind it was of King Eldarion to send us a crate of spiced wine for the holidays. He smiles and comments in the right places at first, but very soon I realize I am talking to myself and I know he was only being polite before. He has no real enthusiasm for anything anymore. It is now taking all of his concentration just to perform the most basic of functions.

I look up from my work and it seems to me that his haunted eyes look even larger than they did moments ago and my heart skips a beat. He will fade before my eyes if I am not careful. 

“Ye must eat more, Lamb,” I scold gently, “Ye’re going to blow away in the wind one of these days.” When those words engender no response I add warningly, “If I catch ye skipping meals again ye’ll be answering to me for it.”

This does seem to arouse enough of his attention for him to look my way, but he knows it is an empty threat, something I swore I would never resort to. But we both know there is no way I am going to lay a hand on him at this juncture. The fact is I’m almost afraid to embrace him too tightly, let alone anything more than that. 

I have always enjoyed the holidays, especially the ones I’ve been able to spend with my elfling, but this task that began as an enjoyable one now seems like only a guise to pretend that everything is normal, when really nothing is. Legolas has already returned to doing what he ends up doing almost every day despite my best efforts to distract him and that is staring blankly out of a window. Distractions never work for long. This day is just the same as any other day, the only difference being the piles of holly and fir branches at our feet. Suddenly I despise the falsely cheerful red berries and the scent of fir is cloying rather than pleasant. Still I rally and try to lighten the mood again.

“Did Mistress Hild send her annual fruitcake yet? That should put some weight on ye, if ye have the courage to eat it this time, rather than stacking it in the closet.” I try to chuckle at my own jest, but am unsuccessful when he shows no sign that he has heard me. 

I sigh and put down my berry garland and walk over to where my elfling sits hoping my touch will help bring him back to himself since my words have failed to do so. 

“Legolas, look at me Lamb.” I reach out to touch his shoulder and it is all I can do not to draw back in shock, for it is as if I am touching a skeleton dressed in a velvet tunic. I swear he wasn’t like this when we began this day. I have to fight to keep the panic at bay. How could this have happened so quickly? Hearing his name his eyes briefly flit toward me and I see reflected in their blue depths two white seagulls. My heart skips a beat and I hurry to the window to see if it is possible that they really are there. I feel the blood drain from my face at what I see instead. Out there, directly beneath the sitting room window are two enormous ravens. They are as black as night contrasted against the white snow and as big as my arm. I feel a shudder go through me for everyone knows that ravens are the harbingers of death. I leap back in terror as one of them lights on the windowsill and seems to glare threateningly inside. 

I hurry back to my friend only to realize he has become so emaciated that he appears to be nearly all eyes. How can this be happening so quickly? I reach out to run a gentle hand down his hair only to pull it away to find long golden strands of it stuck to my hand.. Valar help me! We have waited too long.  
Bitter bile rises in my throat and I grow lightheaded as I realize this is it. This is how it ends. There will be no trip to Eryn Lasgalen to say goodbye in the spring, no sea journey to prepare for. There won’t be another Solstice morning together or even a finished holly berry garland. My worst fears have come true. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that Legolas will not make it through this day. 

I look deep into his enormous anguished eyes, looking for any sign that he still knows me when to my astonishment, they suddenly clear and he speaks to me in an ordinary voice.

“Elvellon what is wrong?”

How can he ask that question? Does he not realize he is dying? What losing him will do to me?

“Gimli, wake up.” Though the voice sounds concerned it is also surprisingly melodic and normal. He sounds just as he did when he was still in sound health. My mind must be playing tricks on me. I close my eyes and shake my head to clear it and when I look again I realize I am no longer in the sitting room in the house in Ithilien, but in my bedchamber in the newly built section of our home in the Valley of the Elms. Legolas sitting next to me on my bed looks concerned, but almost perfectly healthy. He is still a bit thinner than I like to see him, but he has gained a lot of ground. The hand that squeezes mine is steady and strong and his worried eyes are bright and clear. His hair is gleaming gold and neatly braided and his whole complexion has a healthy glow. Relief floods through me, making me tremble even more. It was only a nightmare.

“Elvellon, are you all right?” 

I sit up and pull him to me, breathing in the scent of him and holding on as I force myself to realize that this is reality. We have made it to the West in time and while there is still some healing to be done, he has made remarkable progress. As my heart returns to its normal pace, I kiss the top of his head and release him from my embrace.

“I am perfectly fine, Lad. Just an odd dream,” I assure him. “What have ye been up to? Ye smell like fir.”

“I have been gathering it to bring into the house. It is a festive scent is it not?” 

“It is indeed,” I smile. But images of my dream keep racing through my mind and I cannot help voicing my concerns. “However I do not like ye working outside in the cold before breaking your fast. Have ye eaten?”

“Mistress Glasiel had only just begun to prepare first meal and I didn’t wish to bother her by bumbling around the kitchen while she was working on it,” he explains. “Besides I’m not accustomed to eating like a hobbit and I’m not going to die by waiting to eat for a couple of hours, like you seem to think.”  
I know he is laughing at my ‘mothering’ but I cannot help the shudder than runs through me at his jest about dying. I don’t believe he understands the full scope of the terror I felt in the last months in Middle Earth just before we sailed. Never will I take the chance of seeing him in such a state again even if I am considered to be an over protective mother hen for the rest of my life. My dream has brought those memories crashing to the fore and I know I sound harsher than I intend to because of it.

“Perhaps, but I expect ye to do as I say, Elfling and next time ye’ll wait until after break of fast before beginning any kind of work, even if it is meant to be for fun. Is that perfectly clear?” I do not raise my voice, but I know I sound angry and he looks abashed at my words.

“I only wanted to begin preparing for our first Winter Solstice,” he says. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

I sigh and pat his hand. “I know ye did not Lamb, and I did not mean to tear your head off. It’s just that I worry over you is all.”

“I understand,” he says, “but I am well, I swear it. You worry far too much.”

He is right of course. The change in him from last winter to this is nothing short of a miracle, one that I thank the Valar for every day. I shake the last vestiges of the nightmare off and rise to prepare for the day. I still intend to be diligent, but I am also determined that our first Winter Solstice here in the undying lands is one worth remembering. 

 

XXXXX

When I crept into Gimli’s bedchamber to make up his fire and awake him I had not expected to find him tossing and turning and muttering. I decide it is needful to wake him, but I am soon left wondering if that was a good idea.

Gimli looks pale and a little shaky when I wake him, which is so unlike my stalwart guardian that it is of real concern to me. He does not say what has distressed him but whatever it was it seems to have had a negative effect on his temper for he has already all but bitten my head off merely for my going out to fetch in some fir branches before he even awoke this morning.  
Of course I am accustomed to his ‘mother hen’ attitude but he is taking my excursion outdoors far too seriously. I am not as I was a year or so ago I am fully returned to health and do not need to be ‘mollycoddled’.  
There is no point in saying so of course, Gimli will only bring up Lord Elrond’s advice that ‘I must take things easily in this first year here on Tol Eressëa’ since he believes I am still far from recovering from the sea longing.  
For someone who told me not all that long ago that Elrond was ‘full of hot air’ Gimli is far too fond of spouting his advice.

“You worry far too much,” I try to reassure him.

He nods but I can tell I have not convinced him, so I tell him I will meet him downstairs for first meal and leave him to dress in peace.

I have my own plans to make because it is not too long now before the Solstice and there is a great deal to do if we are to have a proper celebration here in our new home. To begin with we need to find a suitable Yule log. Of course traditionally it is chosen in the new year then kept somewhere through the summer to dry out so it will burn well but this year we will have to make do with something less than perfect. I am sure that I can find a log somewhere out in the woods that surround our valley that has not been covered in snow. Even if I have to spend a long time searching it will be worthwhile to have a great log blazing in the fireplace, and then it strikes me that we have no fireplace fit for such a log.  
For a moment I am nonplussed, for we only have one wing of the new house ready for habitation. The rest will take at least another two years to complete; then we will have a great hall and many large chambers that will be suitable for public occasions. Such grandeur is not my choice, but Gimli’s who is determined to make Car Annûn the greatest house on Tol Eressëa with every comfort. That is small comfort to me now of course.  
I sit down on one of the window seats to mull over the problem and am deep in thought when our seneschal who has quietly come up the stairway asks me if anything is amiss.

Fimbrethil has proved to be a very good choice as far as our household is concerned, he is very efficient but more than that he has struck up a good relationship with Gimli which makes me like him even more so I tell him my present problem.

“I see Lord Legolas, yes that is not something that has occurred to any of us I think. We have all been so busy making this part of the house comfortable that the Solstice celebrations have been forgotten.” He looks around as if searching for inspiration then a smile breaks out on his rather austere features. “The hall” he exclaims.

I stare at him in some perplexity. “The hall,” I repeat, now staring round the hall as if it will suddenly turn into a great hall.

“Indeed Lord Legolas. Oh not this one,” He chuckles, and points towards the heavy wooden door at the end of this corridor and I finally understand him.  
Through that door is what will be the long hall, which will link the wings of the house with the center. For now it goes nowhere but because of the way the outer walls have been designed it was necessary to complete at least the first part of it early.  
I get to my feet and with Fimbrethil at my side we hurry down the hallway to the door, lifting the heavy latch and pushing it open.  
It is the first time I have been here since the west wing was completed and the door closed for the winter, but as I look around I realize that with only a little work this could be the perfect place for our small household to celebrate the solstice together.  
One side of the long hall is made up of windows that look out onto the lake and hills beyond. The ceiling is vaulted with fine beams and decorative scroll work. The walls are thickly cladded in oak paneling and the floor is oak as well, eventually no doubt portraits will hang here but presently there is only the fine carved swags above one of what will be three large fireplaces.  
In the grate are giant irons ready to hold the largest of logs, I can already see the Yule Log well alight as we all sit round toasting the return of the sun. My mind is already full of ways we can decorate in here.

“Well Lord Legolas do you think this might do?”

I give Fimbrethil a grin as I run my hand along the granite lintel of the fireplace. “It is perfect, thank you for thinking of it. I doubt I would ever have thought of it by myself, but of course this is the place we must all see in the Winter Solstice. We will need to bring in some chairs of course so that we can all benefit from the warmth of the Yule Log.”

“You are intending to invite guests?” 

Fimbrethil is looking confused now, and I finally see why for I have not made myself sufficiently plain to him. “Not guests Master Fimbrethil, you and all the other members of the staff are the ones I am talking of.”

“But it would not be …”

I cut him off before he finishes his sentence, knowing that he is about to argue it will not be seemly for us to spend time with our staff. Our small household has not yet become accustomed to the level of informality that we insist on. Mistress Glasiel was scandalized when she found that Gimli and I intended to eat most of our meals in the kitchen with everyone else.  
“Yes it would be very seemly,” I assure him, “Both Gimli and I would very much like to spend the day in the company of those who have worked so hard to get the house ready and made our lives so comfortable. Unless you would prefer to hold your own celebration of course, we would not coerce you in anyway.”

I can see that Fimbrethil is looking both surprised but also highly gratified and my concerns are laid fully to rest when he answers. “I am sure I speak for everyone that we will be honored to be part of your day if you are certain?”

“Very certain, especially now we have somewhere we can burn the Yule Log. All I have to do now is find a log that will not disgrace this fine chimney Gimli designed.” I look around the hall again and then add, “Let us keep this as our secret for now Master Fimbrethil. I would like this to be a surprise for Gimli for a little while at least.” I do not add that one of the reasons I want to keep this from my guardian is that given his concern this morning over my going out before first meal he would likely veto my doing any ‘heavy’ work and want to keep a too close eye on me over other things as well.

Fimbrethil merely nods “As you wish My Lord. I will get Canthui and Aerlinn to sweep it clean and then perhaps Gaearon and I can search in the cellars for some furnishings to make it comfortable for us all.”

“Thank you,” I take one last look round before making for the door, “and now we had better be getting back else my surprise will be spoiled.” 

As it is I only manage to get to the top of the staircase before Gimli catches up with me and I have to come up with an excuse for why I am still here rather than downstairs, I can see that Gimli is looking suspicious but I am spared a grilling by the arrival of Forodren who asks me a question about the horses and by the time we are all seated to break of fast Gimli seems to have forgotten about why he found me loitering in the hall long after I should have been.

 

Xxxx

The whole time I am going through my morning routine and getting read for the day, I talk firmly to myself about worrying over much. It is not necessary, I remind myself, for even though it was a long difficult road to make it here to the Undying Lands, we have done so and very successfully, I might add. Things have turned out better than I ever could have hoped for. Legolas has made great strides in improving his health now that he has been freed from the sea longing that plagued him for so long and even I no longer feel the old aches I used to have that were from the effects of old age. This blessed realm is a true place of healing. 

And yet I cannot forget Lord Elrond’s advice on the importance of the lad being cautious and taking things slowly for a few seasons. Even the great healer himself had never seen anyone who had lived with the burden for as long as my stubborn elfling did, and he knew the moment we set foot off the ship, that Legolas had only just made it in time. According to Elrond, a person cannot suffer such an affliction for so long and expect to recover from it overnight. Healing takes time, and we should be patient and careful. 

Of course Legolas feels so much better than he has for a very long time, that he thinks he is perfectly fine and the rest of us are just overprotective worry warts out to ruin his fun. That combined with his youth and exuberant personality means that he is likely to throw caution to the wind rather than heed good advice, so that means it is up to me to keep a close watch on him. We have had more than a few words about it, for this has meant that while we were working on the house, he was not able to get as involved in the more physical aspects of building as he would have liked. Still he is mostly cooperative with these strictures, even when I can see he does not agree with them and even though I have probably been unnecessarily cautious on more than one occasion. Of course I won’t be admitting that in his hearing anytime soon. 

I know he would never believe it, but I have actually been trying to loosen the reigns a little this winter, as hard as it is for me to do so. It is true that I am still not above nagging him about keeping good eating habits and I watch very closely for signs of tiredness or illness, but the truth is it costs me just to let him out of my sight even for a short time. I have held my tongue on several occasions when he has spent entire days outside working in the cold with the horses or helping Gaearon with some of the other outdoor work. I know how he enjoys being outside even on the coldest of days so as long as he looks rested and healthy I have held my peace over it.

Of course I also never hesitate to say if I think he needs to take more care or to make certain that he does so even if I have to tolerate a bit of sulking about it. Elvish pouting has little effect on me anymore, and I know how to stop it if it goes too far which it rarely does since Legolas has become very skilled at realizing when he is coming close to crossing a line with me. He misses the mark on occasion, but in most cases a pointed look or a raised eyebrow is all it takes to remind him of my feelings about such things. 

Unfortunately there is something about this time of year that has brought unpleasant memories to mind and made me a little more nervous than is usual. Perhaps it is the scent of fir in the house that has sparked thoughts of our last year’s Winter Solstice and brought to mind my fears from that time. I had truly feared back then, that I would outlive my young charge and the idea of such an event was terrifying and the images of the dream I had this morning are harder to shake than I thought they would be. I know I sounded ridiculous to him ranting about his working outside before first meal, but I couldn’t seem to help myself. In my defense, he is still as thin as a rail and cannot afford to lose any weight, though it was not my intentions to dampen his enthusiasm for the upcoming holiday celebrations. 

Speaking of the holidays, we are hoping to have some sort of celebration here in our small home. Even if it is still under construction, this is our first Solstice in Car Annûn and it must be marked in some way even if we haven’t the space to accommodate guests as of yet. I suppose we will spend some time with Lord Elrond and his household, if the weather is good enough to travel, but Solstice night will be held hear with our small household staff if we can convince them that it is not completely improper for them to spend the day with us. I suspect Mistress Glasiel especially will find the idea shocking, for she has a strong sense of her ‘place,’ and she already believes we are far too familiar with the staff, though I believe she is beginning to resign herself to our unseemly casualness. In any case it is our hope to celebrate the return of the conquering sun with those who have worked so hard to make our lives here as comfortable as possible.

As I am about to leave my chambers I hear the voices of Legolas and Fimbrethil talking of some Solstice celebration project they are planning, though I cannot make out exactly what they are talking about. As always I am curious about what Legolas intends to do with his day, for we do not always agree on what sorts of activities are acceptable or safe for him to do, and he can sometimes get involved in things and forget that he still needs to take extra precautions. When we meet at the top of the stairs, I am about to insist that he tell me why he has been whispering with Fimbrethil and isn’t downstairs yet as he said he would be, but I bite my tongue instead recalling my own thoughts that I need to lighten up a little. It is not necessary to know every single detail and there is no reason to suspect he is up to something foolish or dangerous. I am just being paranoid after my stressful night.

And yet as we are partaking of Mistress Glasiel’s wonderful first meal, I can see Legolas’ eyes keep going to the window and I know he is itching to get back outside even though he has already been out for a few hours and even though it is bitterly cold. On most days, I would swallow my concerns and let him go as long as he agreed to my terms. But even though I know there is no reason for it, today the idea of letting him out of my sight makes me very uneasy. So even though I know it is playing dirty, I tell him I need his assistance in my office this morning before he can even mention going outside.

I know I am taking unfair advantage of his loyalty to me, for I know he very much wants to please me and will not deny my request even if it is the last thing he would like to be doing today. I can see he is disappointed, but he does not complain or argue the point. He merely follows me into the office and pretends to be interested in the finer details of house design while I do the work I had planned for today. It was my original intention to work alone, but having him by my side eases my fears and keeps me from having to worry about what he might be doing when he is beyond my sight.

To be fair, he is a good sport about. I am sure he must see through my ruse, but he tolerates my over protectiveness for the entire morning without complaint. It is only after the noon meal when I have coerced him back into my office that he begins to protest.

“Gimli I am not even doing anything except watching you work. Why do I need to be here?” he demands.

“I may need to ask you a question,” I point out, “and besides, I enjoy your company.” I go back to concentrating on my work.

“You have not asked me a question all morning, and I want to go outside for a while. You can enjoy my company when I come back.”

“Ye’ve been outside already, and it is very cold. And before ye tell me elves do not catch chills, let me remind you that Lord Elrond said it is possible since your immune system will be compromised for some time yet. What do ye need to go outside for anyway?” I frown.

“Fresh air,” he says triumphantly.

“Open a window.”

“Gimli!”

Perhaps I could go out with him for a bit, that way he can have his way and I can satisfy my need to have him under my eye at the moment. But when I look at the great piles of work that must be done I realize this is not really feasible if I am to have plans ready to go when spring comes. Though I don’t intend to say it out loud I state, “I have no time to mess about outside today.”

Legolas rolls his eyes before caustically replying, “Though I shall greatly miss your company, I believe I will be just fine on my own.”

Looking up and seeing his amused and slightly annoyed expression, I realize I really am being unreasonable. This is not last year and it is only my own ridiculous fears and memories that are making me react as I am. There is no reason to treat him as if he is made of glass. He must see that my resolve is cracking for he tries to tip the scale in his favor.

“I want to bring in some holly branches to put on the mantle in the sitting room, and if I’m not mistaken, I saw some wintergreen berries growing on the north side of ‘our’ hill.” He looks up at me slyly and with an impish grin, for he well knows my especial fondness for wintergreen berries. There is nothing like the refreshing taste of fresh wintergreen berries on a winter’s day. They are also good for teas and candy flavorings as well as having pain-relieving properties. It is an intelligent tactical move on his part, and I know I have been defeated.

“Very well then,” I say giving in, “but ye are to put on a warm cloak and keep it on the entire time ye are outside.” I have lived long enough with devious elflings to realize I need to be specific about my instructions or he’ll likely put it on just until he is out of my sight. “Also ye must be back before dark.”

He is seemingly very eager to be away from my company, or perhaps he wishes to take his leave before I change my mind. Whatever the case, he is gone almost before I can remind him not to work too hard and overdo things. 

After he has gone, I try to concentrate on my work, but find it very difficult to do so. Before the sun even begins to set I find myself continually checking out the dining room window for any sign of his return. Though he was instructed to return before dark, it is just past dusk when I finally catch sight of him and I can see right away that I may have made a mistake. He is carrying a small armload of holly branches and the promised wintergreen berries, but he looks bedraggled and is shivering a little from the afternoon in the cold. As he enters in through the kitchen doors, he greets me in an overly cheerful fashion that I know right away is meant to keep me from noticing that he is much more exhausted than he should be from cutting a few branches and gathering some berries. 

Well that does it. Though I suspect it will make me unpopular with certain young elves of my acquaintance there will definitely be no more unsupervised outdoor excursions for a few days. It may be there is nothing to worry about, but it would be wrong of me to take that chance. A setback in his health is not acceptable and I intend to make certain that does not happen.


	2. Chapter 2

Because of Gimli’s fussing I have wasted almost an entire day idling indoors. I knew how it would be as soon as he said he needed me to help with the plans for the house. Even so I said nothing all morning, merely agreeing with anything I was asked and spending most of my time staring out of the windows at the snowy landscape.  
Gimli no more needs my company than I need two heads. I have no real say in what is being designed and very little interest either.  
Oh that is not to say I do not care. I do, but Gimli is the one who knows about building and engineering. I only know what I like.  
But since what I like is irrelevant to my architect, who has insisted on planning and building a far larger house than I envisioned, it hardly seems that my preferences will be taken into account now.

Once Gimli is absorbed in his work I do wonder if perhaps I could just ‘slip away’ but as soon as I make a move towards the door his head comes up and he glares at me so I subside into the nearest chair rolling my eyes and sighing mightily. He ignores me.

But when he insists I have to go back with him after the noon meal I have had enough and say so. 

“Gimli I am not even doing anything except watching you work. Why do I need to be here?” 

He tells me that he might need to ask me a question and that he is enjoying my company. How that can be the case I do not know for he has not asked my opinion on anything more than whether we needed to put another log on the fire all day.

He seems dead set against me going back outside, but outside is where I need to be, and there is no reason for me to be trapped inside like this. I do not know what has gotten into him today. He seems anxious and worried about my health and keeps quoting Lord Elrond at me.

“Let me remind you that Lord Elrond said it is possible since your immune system will be compromised for some time yet.” He scolds when I point out that elves do not catch chills.

I admit before we traveled here I had become ill with the sea longing but I am fully recovered now and resent being smothered like this and opening a window as Gimli suggests when I tell him I need some fresh air is not going to provide me with what I want.

Nor do I need to be accompanied. I am not a child and so I tell him that his company is not needed and that I will do fine on my own. As a rider I add that I am thinking of picking some of his favourite wintergreen berries and finally he gives way only instructing me to put on and keep on a cloak and be back before dark.

I am gone before he can change his mind, and am soon racing off up the hill for I have much to do.  
My first task is to collect sufficient berries and holly to account for my period of absence. Having done that I need to put them somewhere where they will not be picked off by the birds and other small creatures who might find such bounty too much of a temptation to avoid. I solve this by wrapping them in my cloak and tying it up on a tree branch. Then I make my way deeper into the tree line looking for something that we can use as a Yule log.

I spend rather longer than perhaps is wise searching the woods. It is dark under cover of the trees and I lose track of how long I have been out for it is getting quite dark before I get back to where I have left my cloak.  
Still on the plus side I have located a log that I think will be perfect and managed with much effort to roll it into an even more sheltered position so that it will remain dry until Gaearon and I can bring one of the heavy dray horses up here to haul it back to the house. I am quite satisfied with my afternoon’s efforts although I admit to feeling both cold and because I shed my cloak more than a little wet.

I don the cloak before I set off down the hill because I am sure that Gimli will be on the watch for my return. There will be little chance of my slipping in unobserved so I do not even attempt it. I leave the holly by the kitchen door and enter with the bag with the wintergreen berries.

It is as well that I took proper precautions for Gimli is standing in the kitchen as I enter. I give him a sunny smile and hold up the bag announcing that I have brought him so proper treasure.

He seems less than impressed for his eyes narrow and he is inspecting me rather too closely for my comfort. I shed my outdoor boots even as he picks up my discarded cloak. 

“Ye seem a trifle wet elfling,” he points to the steam now rising from my tunic and leggings.

“It is still snowing,” I answer moving away from him to stretch my hands out to the fire “and a cloak can only do so much.”

“Aye especially if it isn’a being worn as it should be.”

“You saw me when I came in.”

“Aye you had it on then I will not deny. What I wonder about is where it was for most of the time ye were outside. There seems to be signs of winterberry and holly on here as if it had been carried inside it, and if they were inside it, you certainly were not.”

Now how do I answer that? I could try to lie but given my record it would probably not go well, and there are far too many ears listening in for me to be comfortable if Gimli’s response is such that requires me to get myself upstairs and await his coming.  
Even given how cold I am currently feeling I know my cheeks are glowing at the mere thought of that happening, so I answer honestly or at least partially so, telling my worry wart of a guardian that yes I did use my cloak while I was collecting the holly, but I then put it back on again before I started back down the hill.   
The facts are correct even if I have left out some of the ‘details’ such as how long the cloak was off. I trust that will be sufficient.

Just in case there is any doubt and also because I am unable to prevent it, I shiver. Of course Gimli notices it immediately as does Mistress Glasiel, who calls for hot tea and wraps her own shawl about my shoulders.

“Here now Lord Legolas, why you are quivering like an aspen in a gale. Come you close to the fire. Canthui pass me that quilt I have been working on. Forodren warm up those bricks to put at Lord Legolas’ feet.”

As everyone hurries to do her bidding I lean back into the high backed settle that is next to the fire and soak up the warmth. Truth to tell I am not feeling at all well, not that I intend to tell anyone that. I am sure a hot bath and perhaps an early night will put me to rights. Perhaps I did spend too long out in the cold.

I let everyone fuss over me and welcome their attention for it prohibits Gimli from giving vent to his opinions on my foolishness and the longer I can prevent that happening the happier I will be.

I drink the tea and huddle in the quilt and agree to Forodren’s suggestion that perhaps it would be wise to take an early dinner and then retire. Since I have little appetite it is as well it is decided it would make sense for Gimli and I to eat here in the kitchen tonight for with everyone present I hope it will be less noticeable when I merely move the food around my plate and fail to swallow very much of it.

Of course Gimli does notice but he merely encourages me to finish what I can and hurries me up to my chamber where a hot bath awaits and a bed that Aerlinn has already warmed with a warming pan.   
Normally I would scoff at such mollycoddling. Tonight I am merely grateful for the additional warmth for despite every effort my teeth are beginning to chatter and I can no longer pretend that my long afternoon in the cold has not had an effect on my health.  
Gimli does not scold as I deserve. He merely helps me into bed and encourages me to swallow a draft that Mistress Glasiel has prepared for me which she hopes will help me sleep.  
I do sleep, but with my sleep comes dreams, dreams of my last winter on Arda, when whatever was done for me I seemed unable to stay warm.  
The fires in the house burned day and night, and everyone insisted I was wrapped up in furs and woolen clothing. 

I know I was unnaturally thin, even for me, and I was unable to complete the simplest of tasks, such as braiding my hair, yet everything else is hazy.  
From what little I do recall days went by without me being aware of them my whole attention seemed to be caught up in listening for the sound of the gulls and the call of the sea.

Gimli had retired to Ithilien by then to help care for and he spent the whole of that winter doing what he could to keep me grounded and sufficiently aware to prevent my mind from slipping so far away from reality that I might well have fallen into a kind of madness that too long an exposure to the sea can cause in my people.  
I remember the long nights he would sit beside my bed, talking to me, distracting me, the days he tried to interest me in things that might momentarily recall my wandering thoughts and ground me in Arda for long enough so that proper preparations might be made for our journey into the west.

I see his dark eyes so concerned, so full of love and compassion, his desperation and insistence that I stayed with him mentally as well as physically. How poorly I treated him.

I call out that I am sorry but although I hear a voice telling me all is well I can no longer see my dwarf. Perhaps he has grown tired of me and left me. Who would blame him? I reach out desperately searching for him, ‘Gimli, Gimli …’

“Here now lamb, do not fret so, all is well. Here swallow this and rest easy.”

“I thought I had lost you,” I stammer

“Not likely lad. I was only at the fire warming some broth. Careful now not too much else it will spill, that’s better.”

A strong hand, one that I know well, one that not only comforts but also when needs must chastises, strokes my sweat slicked hair.  
“Gimli is here, sleep now, tis only a chill. You will be better in the morning. I will stay with ye all night. You are not alone, nor will you be. Hush …”

I am enfolded in a warm embrace, the covers are wrapped around me and the smell of pipe weed and tooled leather that I know so well and speaks to me of comfort and safety surround me and I drift off again this time into quiet restful sleep.

 

Xxxxx  
By the time we sit down to an early dinner with out household staff, it has become apparent that Legolas is not doing well after his afternoon outside in the cold. In spite of everyone’s best efforts to warm him up, he is pale and shivering uncontrollably. Hot drinks and warmed quilts seem to have little effect and I cannot help being reminded of last winter when even layers of furs couldn’t stave off the cold at times. Of course in our earlier days together cold weather barely affected him. During the time we were following the ring bearer he barely noticed the cold and snow like we poor mortals did. But when an elf is afflicted with the sea longing for long enough many natural body functions stop working correctly so by last winter, keeping the poor lad warm was a daily challenge. 

Of course since our arrival here in the undying lands, things have improved tremendously, so I am unpleasantly surprised by this turn of events. I shiver a little myself for it reminds me of my thoughts of this morning about the fear I felt last winter when everything looked so bleak for my elfling. I am so concerned by this development that I am unable to continue to scold over his obvious disobedience of my very clear instructions regarding wearing his cloak at all times and not just when it isn’t needed for hauling things. Instead of his appetite being sharpened like I would expect of him after a long afternoon outside, I can see he is only pretending to eat by moving food around on his plate. I know from experience that fussing at him about it when he is feeling this out of sorts will be a pointless exercise.

“Just do the best ye can with it, Lamb,” I tell him. He looks relieved at this and doesn’t even show a sign of arguing when I hurry him up to his chambers as soon as I see he isn’t going to be able to manage any more food. A person might think I would appreciate this sort of cooperation, but truthfully it only worries me more, for it proves that he is ill enough to want to be in bed rather than arguing that it is not necessary as he usually would

I do my best to display a calm, soothing demeanor for it will not do to upset Legolas or anyone else unduly. I remind myself that likely there is nothing seriously wrong, but this is coming too soon after my stressful dream of last night for me to fully convince myself that all will be well. To be truthful, I am extremely worried, for the symptoms he is displaying are too familiar to me.

His teeth are chattering and his eyes are fever bright by the time he enters the hot bath that has been drawn already. I remind him not to stay too long and let the water get cold before picking up his discarded wet clothing and leaving him to it. I have just come back into the bedchamber, when Mistress Glasiel knocks before entering with a draught she has made up for Legolas to help calm him and allow him to sleep. She trades me this for the wet clothing, but instead of turning around to leave she stays to speak to me for a moment. My calm exterior must not be fooling her, for she seems eager to reassure me that all will be well.

“It is only a slight relapse from the effects of the sea longing, Lord Gimli. Most likely he will be much improved by tomorrow, and completely back to normal in a few days. It is not unusual, especially in younglings who have not quite finished developing adult resistances yet.”

As worried as I feel, I cannot help smiling at the thought of how Legolas would react if he were to hear our housekeeper describing him in such a way. He probably wouldn’t appreciate it a bit, though I certainly appreciate her efforts to relieve my mind.

“So you have seen this before?” I ask her.

“Indeed I have. Mostly from elves who put off sailing for longer than they should have. My own sister recovered from such relapses many times before she…” She cuts her words off, seeming to change her mind about what she was going to say. Instead she says, “He is healthy and getting stronger every day, and most days happy to be here and spending time with you. He probably has only worked too hard or gotten too chilled from gallivanting about without a cloak.” She shakes her head and frowns, no doubt at the thought of stubborn elflings who refuse to listen to good advice, but then she recalls the task at hand and reminds me that if we need anything at all we only need to ask. 

Almost I want to ask her about her sister and what she was about to tell me, but it seems like a rather personal matter and I cannot bring myself to do so. Instead I thank her for her kind words and her hard work in helping me care for my sometimes-challenging charge. She brushes off my thanks as unnecessary and tells me that she will make some broth that I can heat up later on, for her young Lord must keep his strength up and he barely swallowed enough at dinner to keep a gnat alive.

She is just gone from the room, when Legolas appears not looking much better than he did at dinner. In fact if anything he is shivering more than before, so I quickly hurry him under the covers and pile on extra quilts that were being stored in the clothes press at the end of his bed. The draught helps him to sleep, but it is not a restful one if I am to judge by the tossing and turning and calling out that he does. At one point he tells me that he is sorry, though I know not what for. He feels unnecessarily guilty over many things. I do not bother to try to figure out what he is apologizing for, but just do my best to assure him that all will be well. He settles down for a bit after that, but when I move away to heat the broth that Aerlinn brought up he immediately calls out for me as if he is afraid I won’t come. Of course I hurry to his side, promising that I will stay with him as long as I need to and then, after helping him with the hot broth that I suspect might also be laced with something, I wrap a warmed quilt around him and settle in next to him on the bed, sitting with my back against the headboard. I pull him into my arms and finally he calms enough to sleep peacefully.

I am far too warm sitting like that and before long the heat lulls me into a light slumber and it is some hours later before I wake up to the sound of my name being gruffly whispered.

“Gimli?”

“What is it, Lamb?” I move a bit to adjust the crick in my back and settle him more comfortably against my chest.

“I don’t feel very well,” he tells me, and I know he must be quite afraid if he is willing to admit such a thing.

“I know you don’t, but it will pass very soon,” I soothe, “Ye’ve just overdone things a bit.” 

“It…it feels like before,” he says, in a slightly shaky voice.

“Like before we sailed?” I ask.

He nods and trembles a bit and I reach up to stroke his hair. I recall many times like this one where I spent entire nights dedicated to helping my elfling to rest easier and take his mind off of the terrible haunting noises in his head that threatened to drive him mad, especially at night. Back then I would sing, or read or talk of anything I could think of to help ease his mind, but this time I have another idea. There is no need for such distractions now. He is feeling poorly, but he has been already relieved of the sea longing. He only needs to be reminded of it. 

“It’s all right, Lamb, just close your eyes for a moment.” I brush a hand over his eyes as I say this. “Now tell me what you hear.”

He is still trembling, whether from still being cold or from nervousness over what is happening to him, I do not know, but he trusts me completely, so he takes a deep breath and then listens carefully.

“Your breathing.” He tells me.

“And?”

“A log settling onto the fire.”

“Yes, and what else?”

He thinks for a moment. “Snow hitting the window.”

“Anything else?”

There is a long silence before he answers.

“Nothing. That’s it.”

“Exactly,” I say, as I tuck his head beneath my chin. “Those are all sounds I can hear too. Sounds outside of you, not inside. There is no sound of the sea calling now. Ye’ve already been cured of that, Lamb. Ye’re just suffering a small set back that’s all. I promise that even though you don’t feel well now, there is nothing to worry over and if ye do as ye’re told and let me take care of you, ye’ll be back to yourself very soon. For now I want ye to try to sleep again. All right?”

He only answers, “Yes Elvellon.” But I hear him breathe a sigh of relief as he relaxes against me and I know my words have had their desired effect. 

After that he is able to sleep through the rest of the night peacefully, not even waking up at dawn when I transfer him out of my arms and onto the pillows while I move to sit in a chair beside the bed. I move away only long enough to open the door when Mistress Glasiel brings a tray of food, which I help myself to before setting the rest aside. It is near mid morning before he finally opens his eyes. Before he has time to wonder where I am, I move to sit next to him on the bed and brush the hair back from his face. He still looks a bit haggard, but I think it is an improvement for his eyes are clear and he is no longer shivering. In fact the first thing he does is try to throw off some of the covers, which I immediately help him with, removing the layers until he is down to only one quilt covering him.

“How are ye feeling, Lad?” I ask once he is more comfortable.

“I am well,” he answers automatically as if this were just a polite question, but he changes it quickly when I raise an unbelieving eyebrow.

“That is to say, I am better,” he amends. “A little tired with a bit of a headache.”

“Do ye think ye can eat something?”

He makes a face and shakes his head. 

“Broth then,” I say going to the fire to heat it.

I am happy when he is able to manage the cup without my help, though he does not seem as pleased as I am with this progress. In fact he looks decidedly worried over something. 

“All will be well, Lamb. Ye’re much improved already,” I remind him.

“I know,” he says simply.

“Then there is no reason to look so concerned,” I tell him. “All ye have to do is listen to me and do as I tell ye and ye’ll be up and about before you know it.” I do not point out that had he listened to me about wearing his cloak yesterday, he might very well have avoided this problem. 

He merely nods and attempts to smile, but I can see he is still worried over something. I have no idea what it is. Perhaps dark dreams or something that has happened that I do not know about? Is he missing his family at this time of year and doesn’t want to say so? We could play this guessing game all morning, but I decide the faster route is to just directly ask him.

“All right, Elfling, tell me what is on your mind.” I insist. “There is no use trying to pretend there is nothing wrong, for I can see there is. I will figure it out anyway, so ye may as well save us both some time and just say it.”

I soften the words by patting his hand and offering a smile, but that does not mean I am not serious about getting an answer. I lean back and cross my arms and wait for him to speak.

“Well Lad?”


	3. Chapter 3

I awake at last to find the morning well advanced and the memories of the night come crashing back into my mind like a wave rolling onto a shore.  
I try and do what Gimli told me last evening to close my eyes and listen to the sounds around me and I find some comfort in them and even more in the voice of Gimli Gloinson asking me how I am.

I answer automatically but hurry to amend my words when I see that infamous eyebrow being raised. He has perfected his technique over the years and now is as lethal in its use as Elrond Eärendilion.  
Gimli is all concern asking if I want to eat, helping me to shed some of the many layers of bedding that were deemed necessary in the night to keep me warm, but I do not feel like food although I will try to swallow a little of the broth that Gimli is currently heating because I know it will please him.

I watch him as he bustles about adding wood to the fire, stirring the broth and humming softly as he does so and am struck again how fortunate I am to have him here with me. I am certain that had I had to make the journey here alone I would not have survived. By the time the Lady Vonild slipped her moorings I did not care whether I lived or died. Indeed death would have been welcome to me for it seemed back then that it was a choice of either death or madness, the sea longing had taken such a strong hold in me.

But Gimli would not let me do either. By his will power alone we made it to the Undying Lands and began to make a new life here. Oh I know others have helped me, but it is Gimli on whom I rely and yet, and yet …  
Time and again I ignore his advice; I fail to listen to his common sense I throw myself into situations that a sane elf would never think of.

Look at yesterday, Gimli warned me about the cold and how I was still in recovery from the Sea Longing and what did I do but pay no heed to him. I scoffed and laughed sure that I knew better about my state of health than he did and how wrong I was proved to be.  
Despite every effort that Gimli and the others put in to help, I was reduced to a shivering feverish wreck, dark dreams filled my head, and memories of that last winter on Arda swirled around my mind. I feared for my sanity, felt all the progress that we have made, at least all the progress in improving my mental and physical health that Gimli and Lord Elrond have achieved was put at risk because of my blind stubbornness. How hard is it to take simple advice and wear a cloak?

Gimli comes back to the bedside and I take the cup from him and sip at the broth and see he is watching me with concerned eyes.

“All will be well, Lamb. Ye’re much improved already.”

I answer that I know but he sees that I am not yet convinced

“Then there is no reason to look so concerned. All ye have to do is listen to me and do as I tell ye and ye’ll be up and about before you know it.”

And there is the problem. I do not listen. I think I know better than my beloved guardian and I worry him and put him to much trouble because of it and worse I deliberately misled him. He believes that my sickness during the night was ill fortune, and carelessness. That was not the case. I left my cloak behind because I thought I knew better than the one who has ever had my care as his priority.

Did he not spend a long night sitting by my bed once again putting my needs before his own even after I lied to him? I am truly contemptible.

“All right, Elfling, tell me what is on your mind.”

I attempt to smile but know that I have failed miserably when Gimli puts his hands on his hips, fixes me with a determined look and says “There is no use trying to pretend there is nothing wrong, for I can see there is. I will figure it out anyway, so ye may as well save us both some time and just say it.”

He softens the words by patting my hand and offering me a reassuring smile, kindnesses I do not deserve. If he only knew….  
The small amount of broth I have swallowed threatens to make reappearance but I swallow it down and place the cup on the bedside table.

“Well Lad?”

What do I say? I take a deep breath and see my hairbrush on the table beside the cup of broth. I pick the brush up and turn it over in my hands.

“Gimli, yesterday …”

“Aye lad”

“I led you to believe that I only removed my cloak for a short time,” I hang my head, “That was a lie. I left it off nearly all afternoon.”

“Lamb!”

I dare not look at him now for fear of seeing his distress, but force myself to make a full confession.  
“There is worse than that. I did not tell you the truth about the reason for my wanting to go out either. Collecting the berries was just an excuse, one that I thought might convince you to give me your blessing to go out. I always knew that I would be out longer than you expected me to be. I went deep into the woods.”

“And the reason for that was? I assume there was a good reason.”

“Well it seemed like a good reason, yesterday. I was looking for a Yule Log.”

“You made yourself ill because you were out looking for a tree?”

I want to argue the point-it was not a tree but a log-but now is not the time. Instead I hand over my hairbrush.

“And what is this for?”

I feel a blush rise in my face, as I push back the coverlet “I think, that is I believe …”

“Ye are not well enough for this. Even if I was intending to take ye to task for not caring for yourself I would not choose to use this.”

“Gimli I need to make proper amends, please.”

He frowns and then nods.  
“Very well.” And before I can say any more I find myself across his lap, my nightshirt hauled up over my back and his hand resting on my naked backside.

“But this is on my terms laddie, not yours and I say how it is carried out. Do I make myself plain?”  
He ensures he makes his point by bringing his hand down on my rump making me jump and squeak.

“I asked ye a question lamb.”

Again the hand lands this time on the other cheek and I hurry to answer him.

“Yes I understand and I am sorry I deceived you.”

The hand falls twice more.

“Aye I know ye are, you’re a good lad. How long were ye out yesterday?”

“Three, maybe four hours.”  
I squirm and shift as the hand falls four times more and then I am the right way up again and tucked back into bed and Gimli is holding me close as I let go of my guilt and take comfort in those strong arms that act as both weapon and shield.

I even manage a somewhat watery smile as Gimli grumbles above my head, “damned fool elf, out in the snow looking at trees and then coming back here demanding to be walloped. What happened to those so-called brains of yours I wonder? Addled; that is what you have become.”

“I am afraid you are right elvellon.”

“I am always right Lamb. Now tell me about this Yule Log ye were searching for. Did ye find something suitable?”

I am happy to indulge my friend and hurry to explain that I have found a truly perfect log, “It is huge but very dry, so it should burn well. I maneuvered it so it will remain under cover until I can collect it,” I hurry to change my words when Gimli stiffens. “I mean until someone can collect it.”

“That is a much better thought” He tells me, “I could go out with Hwiniol and Gaearon, and one of the heavy horses to bring it home if ye tell me where ye left it.”

“It is very cold, do you think …” again I bite off my words, realizing that suggesting to Gimli that he should not go out into the wintery weather is perhaps not a wise move.

“No it is not” he once again seems able to read my rather clouded mind. “Ye will not be going outside for a day or two, make up your mind to it.”

“I understand Gimli, maybe a quiet day inside would be best. I can watch you bring the Yule Log home from the window.”

“Good lad.” He kisses my brow and I sip my rather cooled broth before he brings up another thought. “Now what about this log of yours. I’ve been thinking lamb, even if we get it home. Where you are going to burn such a beastie as ye have described? Our parlor certainly would not take it and the whole point is to burn it whole is it not.”

 

“I have the perfect place Gimli, but I would really like to show it to you. Do you think I might get up now if I promise not to overdo things and wear something warm?”

“Is it outside?” Gimli growls

“No, no it is in the house, I swear.”

He can see I am anxious and finally gives way, “Very well but don’t be thinking ye can talk me into letting you outside just because I am fool enough to give way to your doe eyed trick.”

I hurry to wash and dress before Gimli can change his mind, but also choose a warm shirt and tunic of which I know he will approve. Then with my friend at my side I make off down the hallway and push back the bolts swinging open the door and standing aside for Gimli to enter before me.

Canthui and Aerlinn have already been busy it seems for the floors have been swept and windows cleaned. Even with the snow still falling outside the light is wonderful in the hall.  
The great fireplace now has a set of fire irons and stands for a log even as big as the one I hope will be situated there for the Solstice.

There are chairs and couches placed against the far wall with rolled rugs and tapestries ready to be put out I think it will be perfect but I hold my breath as I await Gimli’s assessment.  
He takes his time, moving forward to inspect each nook and corner; muttering and tutting at things he sees. He actually steps into the fireplace and stares up into the chimney, before coming back to where I stand by one of the windows. His thumbs hooked into his belt he struts back down the long hall as he ponders on the possibilities. I want to hurry him but know it will be best to let him come to his decisions himself, so I school myself to patience.

Eventually he turns back toward me, and chuckles at my anxious expression.  
“Well all I can say is I hope you brought back plenty of those fir and holly boughs, for this place will take a deal of decorating.”

“We can use it then?”

“Of course ye can. This is perfect I wonder why I didn’a think of it myself. Of course there is a lot to be done before the Solstice if we are to get it looking right. Mind” he immediately adds, “You are not to try and do everything yourself, or emulate a squirrel by scrambling up the pillars into the beams above and you are to do nothing more today other than sit and plan. Do I make myself plain?”

I go onto one knee and embrace my friend, my head dropping to his shoulder, “Everything will be as you say Gimli, thank you. Thank you for everything.”

“Now,” he blusters “Ye had best furnish me with the directions of this ‘tree’ of yours so we can get it into place before we do anymore decorating.”

 

It is late afternoon before Fimbrethil comes to tell us that Forodren and Hwiniol are on their way back to the yard with the Yule Log. Gimli and I have spent much of the day together in the parlor making plans for the decoration of the Long Hall although he did go off for a while to talk to Fimbrethil and Mistress Glasiel about something leaving me to sit reading by the fire.

I have not said anything but I am quite grateful that Gimli insisted on my having a quiet day. I am not as recovered as I hoped to be.  
These episodes of tiredness remind me of the winter before we left Arda, but then I was both exhausted and incapable of thinking straight. At least now the physical symptoms are less pronounced and do not last so long and with Gimli’s help I am overcoming the emotional wilderness I seemed to wander in back then when all I could hear was the sea.  
So, I have been true to my word and rested by the fire, eaten as much as I can of the excellent food Mistress Glasiel has presented me with and even managed to nap for a short while.

This meant that Gimli could also get some rest, as his night was far more disturbed than mine. So now I give him my best soulful eyed look as I ask if I can at least go down to the kitchen door to watch for its arrival.

Back in Greenwood the advent of the Yule log always marked the first day of Yule, and there was singing and celebrations, and while I know that I cannot expect that sort of thing today I would at least wish to see the log welcomed in.

“Aye I don’t see why not. This is our first Yule here after all. But ye are to wear your fur lined cloak and put on heavy boots and gloves.”

I cannot see why such a precaution is necessary if I am only to stand in the doorway but I do not argue. If Gimli wishes me to don my winter cloak I will do so willingly.

I see as soon as we enter the kitchen why he insisted on outdoor clothing, for our whole household is gathered similarly garbed and with a garland of ivy and holly already made to decorate the log when it arrives.

The kitchen is full of the smells of Yule as well, spices and warm wine and cider, the special biscuits that I love so much already set out so we can toast the coming of Yule and everyone is carrying a closed lantern as Hwiniol’s call tells us they are nearly home.

“Well go on lad,” Gimli pushes me to the door while Fimbrethil offers me the garland, “as Lord of the house tis your duty to bless the log and all those who will share the days of Yule with us is it not?”

Swallowing on the lump in my throat I nod and lead our small family outside, just as Forodren brings the horse to a halt.  
The light from our lanterns and from the open kitchen door spills out into the rapidly darkening night but I see that not only Forodren but Hwiniol and the horse are sporting holly in their hair and mane.

 

I remember my father taking this ceremony each year, with the full court about us and much song and laughter but here there are just us few still I want to do things properly, so I circle the log three times before I place the holly and ivy garland across one end and send the usual evocation to the Valar for their blessings and for gifting us with such bounty, then I begin to sing.

It is a simple Sindarin song calling upon Ithil to guide us through the darkness of the long winter nights and bring us to the dawn of a new year when the light returns. I know Gimli has heard it before for he shared many Solstice celebrations with me so when he begins to sing it does not surprise me but then Hwiniol and Canthui join in, then one by one each of the rest of the staff add their voices, blending the harmonies and making the yard echo with their singing.

We link hands and circle the Yule log once more; then one by one our voices fall silent again until I am left to sing the final verse in memory of those gone before or still to come to us in the future the Valar willing. As I too finish my part, the first of the stars appears in the sky above us and Gimli calls for us all to go back inside to sample some of the spiced cider and biscuits.

As we shed our boots and cloaks I turn again to Gimli who is looking very pleased with how things have gone.  
“How did you manage all of this in such a short time?” I ask.

He claps his hands together and chuckles, “I had plenty of help lad; we are fortunate in those that work with us here.”

I agree that we are and I am also fortunate in the one who acts as my guardian I tell myself as he hurries me into the kitchen to sample some of the biscuits and toast the first day of Yule which has ended far more happily than it began.

Xxxxx

 

The arrival of the Yule log has made it really feel like the holidays are upon us. I have spent many happy mid winter’s days with family and friends but this one is very special for it is the first one in our new home and the first one in my last home. I have lived many places in my long life, but I realize now that I will never move again. I am home permanently. And I am happy to be here with the one who is the closest to a son that I will ever have or could ever want. And though I shall always miss my family back in Aglarond and Erebor, I have no regrets at all. This is home, and today we will light our first Yule log.

It is also the first Solstice in several years that my elfling hasn’t been plagued with illness and that is a real reason to celebrate as far as I am concerned. Even in our earliest days together, he had already been afflicted with the sea longing, though I was barely aware of it back then. In fact I had only known him a few months when we followed Aragorn to Pelargir and Legolas first heard the cry of the gulls. He never complained of it, and mostly he could ignore it in those days, but this Solstice is extra special because it is the first one since I’ve known him that he has been freed from this curse. I am thankful to have been given the opportunity to witness it.

Obviously there are still aftereffects, as has been proven by this most recent debacle, but the root of the problem has been solved, so things can only improve now as long as he is cautious. I am here to make certain of that, though I doubt even the Valar themselves could keep that one out of trouble. But that in itself is promising, for it means he has the energy and awareness to get into bother at all, unlike last year when he had little interest in anything. Last winter I would have cut off my beard if it meant he would have the desire to go out in search of a suitable Yule log or even care what day it was.

Of course it would never do to say that to him now. I do not need him thinking that I wish him to get into every sort of mischief that comes to mind. But the truth is, in spite of the small setback in his health, I feel like every sign of his returning to normal is a hopeful one.

I have also found out that his conscience is still functioning as usual. A person might think a long feverish night, accompanied by dark dreams and then a day or two of being stuck inside to recover might be enough of a penalty for a relatively small bit of naughtiness, but evidently to some overly sensitive elflings it is not. Though how he thought I would be able to live with myself if I were to call him to account in the manner he was expecting I do not know. As if I’d be so uncaring as to be harsh with him while he is in a weakened condition. That I would not! Yet his mental and emotional state is just as important to me as his physical health, so if a few well placed swats can alleviate some guilty feelings I am happy enough to comply. He seemed greatly relieved afterwards when we were discussing how we were to bring home the Yule log he had managed to find.

Which brings me to another point. If he wanted a Yule log, why did he not just say so? I certainly would have done whatever I could to attain one. After all, it is an easy enough wish to grant. He could have saved himself all sorts of unnecessary suffering of both body and mind had he just been straightforward with me in the first place, but my elf has never been known to do things the easy way. I would not have objected to him going out to choose the log and to help bring it back to the house, but as it turned out he was not well enough for that because of thoroughly exhausting himself yesterday, and with little protection from the bitter cold.

Luckily Forodren and Hwiniol saved the day and took the heavy horses to fetch the log back to the house and everyone else pitched in by quickly arranging a small ceremony for the first day of Yule. Fortunately everyone knew how things should go and were willing to participate to make it a special event worth remembering. I’ll admit that I had a slight moment of annoyance when I saw the monstrous log that my elfling had admitted to maneuvering about on his own, even though he should have had better sense, but I rallied quickly and swallowed the scolding words that were on the tip of my tongue.

Instead I joined in with the singing-a song I have sung many times before, for I have spent many solstices among the elves.

I was very pleased with the success of our small affair and encouraged everyone to come in out of the cold and enjoy the warm cider and spiced wine, along with the biscuits that Mistress Glasiel has prepared for us. Everyone seems relaxed and happy in spite of the fact that most of our staff are not accustomed to our informal ways.

After a while, Forodren, Hwiniol and Gaearon disappear and I realize they are going to bring the log in through the unfinished end of the long hall, rather than trying to drag it through the house. Very soon Master Forodren comes in to signal to me that the log has been placed in the great fireplace and I announce that we should all adjourn to the long hall to witness the lighting of our first Yule log here in the Valley of the Elms.

The log looks even more enormous than it did outside, and I am pleased to realize the we should have no trouble keeping such a monster burning for the full twelve days of Yule. Kindling has been spread thickly under it and I am about to hand Legolas a flint to light it with, when I remember something.

“Halt for a moment, Lad. There is something missing.” I say.

“There is?” Legolas examines the log, no doubt trying to figure out what I am talking about. After all how much can there possibly be to lighting a log on fire. Kindling, log, fireplace, flint. What else is there?

I chuckle at his perplexed expression, but do not stop to explain, only telling him once again to hold up while I go after something we need. If only I can recall where it is packed away….

I hurry as much as I can, but even so it is nearly half an hour before I am able to successfully locate what it is I am looking for. In the cellar at the bottom of a stack of wooden boxes I find what I am looking for: a bit of burnt wood about ten inches long. It is what remains of our Yule log from last year’s solstice. Traditionally a bit of the log is saved each year and held over to the next to light the next year’s Yule log. Last year I had feared that I might not see another Solstice in with my beloved elfling, but I had saved the bit of wood anyway as a symbol of hope, knowing that if it were to survive to be lit, it would be done in the furthermost West. It is one more symbol of our success.

Feeling rather victorious, I hurry back to the long hall, where everyone is still waiting and no doubt wondering what I have deemed so important that the lighting ceremony had to be stopped. As I enter the hall, I hold out the blackened wood triumphantly. Legolas eyes me strangely, looking confused over the item I hand him. No doubt he hardly recalls last year’s Yule log. He was too overcome by then. For me, however, the day is burned in my memory forever. For now I can see I am going to have to explain.

“It is from last year’s log,” I tell him and understanding suddenly dawns.  
“This is from Ithilien?” he asks incredulously, turning it over to look at from all angles.

“That it is, Lamb. Is it not the custom to use a remnant of last year’s Yule log to light the current year’s new one?”

“It is,” he agrees, “It is supposed to be a amulet of protection for the year, but I did not know you were aware of that.”

“I’ve been among your folk long enough by now to be aware of many or your traditions no matter how outlandish,” I reply. “And I believe this wee talisman has done its job well. We are here, still together and still safe, so let us lay it to rest with dignity and get on with the celebration.”

A smile lights his face as he holds out the charred wood to my flint. It takes a moment or two to light, but the wood is very dry so it catches and grows quickly and Legolas tosses it atop the kindling, which also goes up in flames. Before long we can see that the log itself is beginning to burn . The light of the growing flame represents the return of the light of the life-giving sun, and the warmth from it the promise of warmer days.

Everyone stands about watching somewhat anxiously until we are certain that the fire has taken a good hold of the Yule log and looks as if it will continue to burn steadily. For the fire to go out before it is meant to, is considered a bad omen, and though I am not a superstitious person, there is no point in taking any chances!

We are all relieved when the kindling is all used up and the fire continues to burn well, and I am confident it will not go out. After that everyone relaxes and begins to chatter comfortably, sipping the warmed wine and cider and talking of plans for the days ahead. One by one each one leaves to return to their final duties of the day, until I am alone with my charge.

He looks decidedly pleased about how the day has gone, but I can see he is starting to tire in spite of having had a relatively quiet day. I do not wait for him to admit to needing to rest. After several hundred years of being super resilient with little need for sleep, I know it is a blow to his pride that he now tires easily like a very young elfling. So he does not have to confess this, I make a show of insisting on an early night. That way he can go to rest to ‘please’ me, rather than because he needs to.

“Off ye go, Lad,” I say, “It’s been a large fine day, but the Yule log will be here tomorrow. Tonight it is time ye were back in your bed.”

“All right, Gimli,” he agrees, “but first I want to offer the first blessing for the house.”

It is a dwarven custom for every member of the family and every visitor who comes to call, to strike the Yule log to make the sparks fly up while offering a wish for the household. Each spark represents a wish for health, happiness or prosperity for the family. Legolas enjoyed this practice so much after learning of it on the first Mid Winter’s day he spent in Erebor that he has adopted it as a tradition of his own.

“Very well, but for Aûle’s sake, be cautious, Child.” I warn as I hand him the heavy iron poker. Inside a cave there is very little risk of fire since the walls and floors are made of stone, and truthfully even here there is little risk, but the fear of a house fire is not what I am concerned about.

“What could possibly go wrong?” he asks, laughing at my seemingly needless concerns, but I do not find anything funny.

“We do not need a repeat of last year,” I remind him.

He thinks for a moment and it is obvious that the memory of last year is hazy. Finally he frowns slightly and simply answers, “Oh. Right. Don’t worry, Elvellon, I will be careful.”

He then clears his throat and raises the poker, pronouncing in his funny Khuzdul, “May our joys in our new home be as many as the sparks from this log,”

With that he draws back and gives the log a good solid whack, which sends thousands of tiny sparks flying upwards. We both step back laughing as they shower down on the hearth and then we quickly brush off the few that land on us. For good measure Legolas shakes his head and brushes at my beard and hair and then we search the wide stone hearth and the floor beyond to make certain that all the sparks have been put out. Even though it is a tradition to bless a household in this way, I have often thought that Legolas just likes to play in the fire. And who can blame him? Even I get a deal of childish pleasure from watching the sparks fly up and rain down. No doubt if Lady Vonild were here, she would put it down to simple-minded males being easily entertained. Whatever the case, we are both pleased with the result.

“A fine beginning, Lamb!” I congratulate him. “Though I am certain I will be able to make a better show when it is my turn, tomorrow.”

“Highly unlikely, but you are welcome to try Master Dwarf,” he offers generously.

“That is Lord Dwarf, if ye please, and I shall do more than try, Laddie!”

“That remains to be seen, Lord Dwarf.”

“Aye indeed it is a question for tomorrow,” I agree. “For tonight, less chatter, more sleep! And before ye ask, yes I do know how early it is, and no I do not mind treating ye like an elfling who is up past his bedtime. Now let’s go!”

We find out way back to our chambers and say goodnight at the door, but we both know I will be in to check on him as I do on many nights, especially following a night like last night. This particular night, I find him already beneath the covers and nearly asleep when I come in a few minutes later. His eyes flutter open briefly when I lean to brush the hair back from his face and kiss his brow, but they quickly close again and I know he is in a deep healing sleep. I pull the heavy curtains across all the windows so that he will not be awakened by the rising sun shining through the glass in the morning and will be able to sleep as long as possible. I know from experience that plenty of rest will put him right faster than anything else. His inability to ever rest easily last winter was a good part of the reason he had so much trouble keeping warm or recovering from even the slightest of injuries back then.

I try to shake off thoughts of the past and focus on plans for the future. It is something I am always advising my elf to do, and I strongly agree it is good advice, but I have to admit it is easier said than done. As I move back into my own chambers, leaving the doors between us open, I cannot help letting my mind drift back to a certain day last year.

It was the first day of Yule and we had only just finished with the lighting ceremony. It had been a quiet event, but I had hoped that it would serve to cheer my friend a bit and keep his mind rooted in the present for a short while at least. Unfortunately he had shown very little interest in it, other than to participate in order to make me and other worried members of the household happy. But I was not happy. I knew our efforts had failed miserably. Very soon after he had that faraway look in his eyes again, and I knew he was hearing the call as loudly as ever.

Still I was not willing to give up. I encouraged him to sit by the great fire as I went off in search of his favorite spiced wine. I returned just in time to hear a loud pop from the fire and see a rather large, red hot coal land directly on the thin fabric of his shirt sleeve. A quick reaction would have prevented him being burned, but to my horror he did not even attempt to remove it. Whether he was too numb to feel it or whether he just could not think what to do, I do not know, but even when I cried out, he did not attempt to remove it. By the time I had made it across the Great Hall and knocked it off myself, he had already been badly burned and he was only startled when I yanked him up and hauled him down the corridor to the kitchen and the nearest source of running water.

It was only when he was being treated by the in house healer that the pain of the injury began to register. I held onto his other hand as he sucked in his breath and bit his lip to prevent himself from crying out. Unexpected tears sprang into his eyes, though he brushed them away before they could fall. It was the first time I had seen more than a flicker of emotion in his eyes since the beginning of winter. Finally something had been able to break through the constant nagging of the call of the sea, if only for a little while. I felt like weeping that it took something this painful to do so. My poor elfling.

But Legolas took it as a hopeful sign. Before that he had been fairly certain that he would never be the same again, but this event gave him hope that he might be able to return to normal eventually. If he could feel physical pain, then he might be able to feel other things again.

I now believe that that small hope is what helped him endure the rest of the winter, until warmer weather came and he was able to recover enough strength that I felt it safe enough to attempt our sea journey. Perhaps it is just as well that it took until spring for the burn to fade completely, for I know he got some strange sort of comfort from seeing it and recalling the pain that reminded him that he still had the ability to feel something other than the wretched longing.

I go to my own window and look out at the stars that still seem to be in the wrong place here in the Undying Lands. I had not expected that the celebrating of such a beloved holiday would bring on such unwelcome and unpleasant memories. I open the window to let in some of the cold air hoping it might clear my head. I tell myself to focus on the present and what we can do to make this first Yule as memorable as possible. I need to focus my thoughts in a more positive bend. I know that. I close the window and go to my bed intent on forgetting my troubles for the night.

And yet it is still early evening and I suspect sleep will elude me for many hours yet this night.


	4. Chapter 4

I awake with a start and lie here listening, but all I can hear are the normal night noises and even they are muted because of the thickness of the walls and the tightly drawn curtains across the windows.   
I hardly ever bother with closing the curtains so I can guess who has done so for me. Gimli will have wanted to keep the light out of my chamber for as long as possible so that I can get the sleep he knows my body still needs, but needs or no, my warrior instincts still kick in when something occurs that is not within normal boundaries.   
I strain my ears but still there is nothing but my senses are telling me that something is amiss so I scan the bedchamber and notice that the door leading to the dressing room and Gimli’s bedchamber beyond is open.  
Again that is scarcely unusual. My guardian often leaves the doors ajar, not to keep an eye on me as such but in case I suffer as I still occasionally do from night terrors or, as has been the case in the last night or so when I have been unwell, and he is concerned over my health.  
His care of me is a great comfort to me. YIes all kinds of his care I have to admit, for that particular care that Gimli sometimes metes out helps to alleviate my guilty conscience that despite my best efforts still strikes me at some very inconvenient times.

Still it is unlikely that the noise that woke me came from that direction. I mainly hear sonorous snoring but tonight there is silence ,which in itself is very strange, and then I hear the sound again.

It is a low keening cry and it is indeed Gimli. I am out of my bed, grabbing my robe and pushing my feet into the felt slippers that Gimli insists I wear when I walk the hallways at night. He seems incapable of grasping the concept that elves do not feel the cold or at least he pretends he does not. So many folk do not ever see behind the bluff unpolished exterior but Gimli Gloinson is so much more than the sum of his parts and is besides a very sneaky person.

I enter silently, not wishing to cause my friend alarm but I soon see there is no need, for Gimli is unaware of my presence. He appears to be deep in the throes of a nightmare.   
He is calling out, seeking for someone who has been lost. I hesitate for a moment, then step towards the bed putting out a hand to grasp his which seems to be searching for something or someone.

“Gimli,” I call softly, “Elvellon?”

He is so deep into his dream path that he does not hear my voice calling to him. He appears desperate. Who is it that he so urgently wishes to find? And then to my horror I realize who it is that Gimli is seeking. It is me!

I hear him mutter, “I have lost him, lost him. He has gone beyond my help, lost in the call of the sea. Lamb, do not go where I cannot follow …”

I pull back. Ai, is this what I have brought my beloved friend to? His distress, his despair is for me.

“Gimli,” I shake him more urgently, “Gimli, awake! Truly I am here. I am whole and well. Awake!”

Gimli shudders beneath my hand. His dreams are dark indeed and I can see if only dimly that his only concern is for me. How like him it is to put my needs before his own. He has done so almost from the moment that Gandalf and Aragorn asked him to take on the task of ‘caring’ for the son of Thranduil.

I recall the time in our last winter in Ithilien, I do not know why this comes to mind but I suddenly remember when I burned my arm and the pain was something that managed to keep me anchored in real life for a short period, a rarity back then when whole weeks and even months could go by without my noticing.  
My hand goes to the place where the burn was. Of course the scar is long gone, the memory remains. I recall Gimli’s desperation to keep me alive and aware, to keep me focused when all I wanted to do was to lose myself in the call of the sea. 

And here he is again caught up in some nightmare of which I am the cause.

“Gimli …”

Finally he awakens and the first thing he asks is what is wrong and if I am well. Oh my beloved guardian how much I owe you.

“I am very well. My concern is for you. You were dreaming and you were calling for me.”

He shakes his head as if to clear it, “Was I so? I am sorry to have awakened you Lamb. Go back to bed. All is well here.”  
Now I may be ‘daft’ as Gimli likes to call me sometimes, but I am not so simple as to take heed of that recommendation.  
Instead I go to the fire and stoke it back into life. There is a kettle there and I place it on the hook in preparation of making Gimli some tea.

“Now what are ye up to?” he demands querulously 

“Making us some tea”

When he merely harrumphs at this and makes no further objection I know that he is seriously upset by his dark dreams, a fact which is confirmed when accepts the thick robe that Lady Galadriel gifted him with and wraps it round his shoulder then he allows me to pull up another fur to add to his bed and tuck the covers more tightly around him.  
With the tea made and a generous spoon of honey added to the mugs, which are kept ready in the dressing room, I come back to the bed and offer him his drink.

“Here,” he pushes the coverlet to one side, “slip in under here. Even with the fire it is a cold night.”

I am not averse to doing as I am bid, not because I am cold but because I can see that he is anxious to have me near him to reassure him that I am indeed here and well. We sip our tea in silence for a moment or two then I venture to speak.

“Would you share your dream with me Elvellon? It helps sometimes to speak of what it is that has caused such distress. At least that is what you always tell me.”

“Nay, it was just a foolish dream is all,” He grunts.

“One that was to do with me and the effect the sea longing had on me was it not? This is not the first time this has occurred, Gimli, and it will not cease to plague you unless you share it with someone. I am here and willing to listen and I feel that since much of the blame for your bad dreams can be laid at my door it is the least I can do. Please I owe you so much already. I hate to think that even your sleep is plagued by me!”

I know that by attempting to place the blame on me I am more likely to hear the truth for he will not wish me to be worried that I am to blame for his nightmares. I am not surprised when he immediately attempts to comfort me.

“Do not be daft lad. It was just a memory is all. I can see ye are hale and whole- well almost so. It is but an old dwarf’s fancies.” 

“Gimli!”

He can see that I am determined and he evidently decides that if I am to be appeased and to get the sleep he believes I still need he will have to speak.

“Very well, but mind me Lamb ye are not to try and take any of the blame for this onto yourself, else I shall be very angry with ye! Do I make myself plain?”

I nod meekly and go back to sipping my tea while he settles back into the pillows.  
“As I said it is but dreams, memories brought on I suppose because of the approach of the Solstice and the days of Yule. My mind keeps going back to our last winter in Ithilien, and while I can see that ye are so much better now than ye were, still I canna help but recall how ill you were back then.”

I have little memory of that last winter, save only what I have heard Gimli speak of when he and Elrond were discussing the long term after effects of the sea longing on me. As it was with the sympathetic support of Erestor and Elrond, Gimli opened up and spoke of the growing fear and desperation those that loved me felt as they struggled to keep me grounded as the Lady Vonild was built and preparations made for our journey. He would never have said anything had he known I was not asleep as they thought but merely feigning. I know how close to despair he must have come and how great his love for me was, and I am certain that only his great strength and determination allied with that of my father kept me alive long enough to make the journey into the West.  
Gimli has never spoken of it to me before, and I have never admitted to overhearing the conversations he had with Elrond and Erestor, knowing he would be most upset to think I had any idea how desperate things had become.

“It must have been very hard for you all” I say, “I think perhaps I had the easiest part. At least I was not aware of how bad things had got.” I rub my arm where the burn used to be, “I do remember the burning coal. It is one of the few things that I do recall. Perhaps striking the Yule log brought back that memory for you and brought on the dreams tonight.”

“Ye remember that then?”

“Yes, not the accident itself but the pain, and your concerned face. I have been nothing but a trial to you Elvellon all along. I wonder why you put up with me as you do.”  
As I expect this has the effect of making Gimli growl at me and administer a slap to my leg, which, since several layers of covers cover it scarcely stings. But it is enough for me to know that I had better not follow that line of conversation any further and it also means that Gimli is feeling better since he threatening me in this way!

“Truly Gimli, I am well and recovered. It is time to let go of those memories and replace them with new happier ones. We have our first Yule here to look forward to and those last years on Arda the ones where I was not exactly at my best…”

Gimli actually chuckles at that piece of speciousness

“Perhaps it is time to place them where they belong in the past?”

“Aye maybe you are right.”

It is my turn to smile; “Now I am truly worried, for you are admitting that I am right!”

“I only said you might be right not that you were!” Gimli tells me. “ But seriously Lamb you are correct we have much to do and much to look forward to in the coming year all of which we will need our strength for so I propose we try and sleep now.”

“Do you mind if I stay?” I ask as I stretch out, “I am warm and comfortable here.” And I do not want to leave you alone in case your dreams return, I think without actually saying it of course.

I know he can probably see through my scheming but I believe he is secretly relieved that I intend to sleep here for he shrugs and says he hopes I do not keep him awake with my snoring, which makes us both laugh. I settle down next to him and hum softly to myself until I hear Gimli’s measured deep breathes which tells me he is truly asleep. Then I sit and watch over his rest as he has done so often for me in the past and will no doubt do again when the need arises. It is the least I can do.

And while I sit beside him I begin to plan our day, for I intend to keep Gimli busy all day with one activity or another. And tonight when it is his turn to strike the Yule Log I shall send a prayer to the Valar and Lord Aûle in particular that the sparks that fly up will take away with them all Gimli’s bad memories of the past and the shower of sparks that falls will bring good dreams for the future.  
If I have my way they certainly will. 

Xxxxx

 

Even I can see that something is going to have to change. This is the second time inside a week that my elf has awakened me from a dark dream, this one having actually woken him up in the middle of a much-needed sleep. It will not do to keep alarming him so, and yet I seem unable to stop these memories and dark fears from surfacing. 

I’ll admit it was a great relief to hear his voice calling to me and to wake up to him sitting by my side looking sound and healthy, if a bit concerned. I protested very little when he insisted on fussing about, making tea, and then crawled in beside me under the covers, for having him near was a great comfort after the unspeakable dreams of losing him. My dreams seem to begin as bad memories of last winter only with things ending as I feared they might have instead of as they really happened. The reality is we have made it safely across the sea, and we’ve both been given a great opportunity for a life together here. Why my mind suddenly cannot seem to accept that all is well, I do not know. Perhaps it is the season, for last winter was the worst part of his illness. I had truly been afraid he would not survive it. Or maybe it was his relapse of a couple of days or the sparks from the fireplace has brought it on. 

I have been so careful to see that Legolas is well and happy and recovering from his long bout of sea longing, that it never occurred to me that I might have been affected by all that I went through with him. Whatever the case, I can see I am going to have to say something or risk being called a hypocrite by my determined charge. He has already attempted to use my own words against me. Besides he needs to sleep and I can see by the stubborn set of his jaw that he is not going to do so until I speak. I can see he is growing impatient and exasperated with me and finally he is unable to keep silent a moment longer.

“Gimli!”

He is very sweet to be so concerned and it would be wrong of me not to share my troubles. To do so would deny him the opportunity to be helpful and comforting, which is a big part of what it means to love someone and to share a family bond. Still there are some details he will never hear from my lips. I believe it is a blessing from the Valar that his memories of last winter are so hazy for it would hurt him terribly to know the excruciating details of that time. No matter that I did my best to protect him from them, there are certain indignities that come with serious illness and it is best that he does not clearly recall some of the more personal matters he needed assistance with, some of the basic tasks he could no longer handle on his own.

Fortunately he had recovered some by spring and was enough improved that he could care for his own needs better and was able to make proper farewells. I am very thankful that he was some better by the time we travelled to Eryn Lasgalen to say goodbye, for it would have broken his poor father’s heart to have seen him as he had been over the winter. 

I am also glad that he does not remember in detail the pain and worry he caused me and all the members of his household. Any one of us would have given an arm to ease his suffering, but there was little we could do other than offer distractions and do our best to keep him as comfortable as possible. He would find it devastating to realize he was the cause of so much concern and distress. So while I will share my dreams with him, I will do so without divulging the details. Some things he is better off not knowing. He has already mentioned that he is the cause of my nightmares and that he is plaguing even my sleep, so first I must make some stipulations.

“Very well, but mind me Lamb ye are not to try and take any of the blame for this onto yourself, else I shall be very angry with ye, do I make myself plain?”

He nods and sits back to listen as I tell him of my memories of last year and how they have been plaguing me ever since I first smelled the fir he had hauled in a couple of days ago. Once again he advises me using my own advice: it is time to let go of what was, and focus on what we now have and what the future holds. I smile to think that this proves that he really does listen to me since he is able to quote me almost verbatim. I have to agree that he is right. It is time we moved forward. I only hope my seemingly frazzled brain will be able to keep up with my determination. 

For now I suggest we sleep, and am touched when my elfling offers to remain with me. He does so on the pretext of being too comfortable to move back to his own bed, but I am not so slow that I do not realize he wishes to stay in case I need his comfort. And it is a comfort to have him near as it always is. I am always most relaxed when he is within arms reach for then I know at least at that moment that he is safe and well. 

I fall asleep to the soft pleasant humming of my dear friend, my sweet elfling, the son of my heart and wake up the next morning with the back of a hand slapping me in the forehead. I shove the hand away and start to protest, when I realize Legolas is sitting next to me as if to guard my sleep. The hand against my forehead was not intentional, but the result of having fallen asleep on the job. I laugh at that, but silently so as not to wake him. No matter how recovered he thinks he is, he still needs plenty of sleep, something that is proven again by his inability to stay awake through the night even with the best of intentions. I wonder how much of the night he spent awake watching me for signs of distress. He is a good, thoughtful lad to be so concerned but I do not like to think of him missing nights of sleep on my account. 

Ah well it is no matter. We have nothing pressing to do today other than to enjoy one another’s company and celebrate the upcoming holidays. There is no reason he can’t have a good lie in and still have plenty of time to take pleasure in the Solstice celebrations. I slip out of bed and quietly pull the curtains closed before the sun can shine in and wake him up and then dress and make my way down to the kitchen to break my fast with the staff who have already been gathered.

Before she has time to knit her brows together in concern, I tell Mistress Glasiel that all is well, but I am letting Legolas sleep late and will bring something up for him when I go back upstairs. She seems satisfied with that, and loads a tray with enough food to feed a family of hobbits. Right in the center is the obligatory porridge that she seems to believe necessary for a proper breakfast for someone in need of gaining a little flesh. Thoughtfully she adds a sprinkling of brown sugar and a handful of walnuts to help it go down easier, for she knows as I do, that certain members of this household do not care for the bland taste and sticky texture of unadorned porridge. 

As it turns out, it was an unnecessary measure, for by the time Legolas finally wakes up, the porridge has grown stone cold and though I am insistent that he eats properly and regularly, I am not so cruel as to try to coerce him into swallowing this concoction that has grown thick enough to slice. Besides there is more than enough without it and I offer it to him as I open the curtains to let in the late morning sunshine. He seems to be much better this morning than yesterday morning for he goes at the food eagerly enough, though he frowns somewhat as he does so.

“The day is half gone, Gimli. Why did you not wake me?” He asks reproachfully. “I had many things planned to do today.”

“Ye spent half the night sitting up with me, and ye need your rest, so there was no reason for ye not to sleep in late. Besides as long as the Yule log burns, ye are not to do any unnecessary work Laddie. Do not forget that.” I remind him.

He looks up at me surprised, for while this is a common tradition to some folks, it is one I have never paid heed to before.

“Do you mean you are not going into your office to work on plans for the house for the full twelve days of Yule?” He asks unbelievingly.

“Aye, that is exactly what I mean, Lamb, and ye are not to do any sort of work either, unless it is related to us making this the most special Solstice we can make it. That way ye’ll have plenty of time to rest and recover and we will be creating new memories at the same time. What do ye say?”

“I say it sounds wonderful, Elvellon. Shall we get started?” He starts to throw back the covers, but I put a staying hand on his shoulder.

“Now mind, ye are not to overdo things, even in activities meant for fun, and if ye’ve any need to go outside, ye’ll gain my permission first and I’ll tell ye now, there is no point in asking today.”

“Yes, yes, Gimli, I understand. Now let me go, we’re wasting time. I have lots of plans.”

His enthusiasm is delightfully welcome and in stark contrast from last year. It is also contagious, for I am just as excited as he is to get on with the celebrating. He is ready very quickly and grabs my hand to hurry me off to whatever activity he has in mind for us to do.

As it turns out, we end up in the long hall, where the Yule log still burns as steadily as ever. He picks up the iron poker and pokes a bit at the fire and we can see that we should be able to get some good sparks this day. I am about to take my turn blessing the house, when he tells me he has something else in mind.

“Is it not appropriate that everyone in the household should offer a blessing?” he asks me. 

“Of course it is, but do ye think we can convince the others that they should take up dwarfish holiday customs?”

“I do not see why not,” he tells me. “I’ll gather everyone.”

“Everyone in the house,” I remind him. “Ye are not to go out in the cold today.” Before he can protest I remind him that they will all be in for the noon meal and they can have a go then. He has to be satisfied with that so he goes off in search of those who are working inside.. That turns out to be Master Fimbrethil, who is always calm and reserved, but is happy to give it a try to please us. As the sparks fly up, he asks that we have a productive year with nothing to hinder our plans.

Mistress Glasiel is harder to convince for she does not like to be disturbed from her duties, but under her very ‘proper’ exterior, she is actually quite motherly, which means she is not immune to the many charms of her young Lord. It does not take him long to coerce her into the long hall with an apron still tied around her waist and a wooden stirring spoon still in her hand. She even laughs a little when I trade her the spoon for the iron poker. 

“I am to strike it?” she asks uncertainly.

“Aye, and ask for a blessing,” Legolas tells her. She thinks for a moment and then takes aim, wishing for a safe year and good health for all the members of the household.

Canthui giggles self-consciously and wishes everyone happiness, but it is shy Aerlinn who surprises us the most. 

She seems quite eager to take part. She asks that each member of the household find his or her life’s calling and be happy in the work they choose to do. It is a very specific and unusual blessing, and Legolas catches my eye for a moment and I can see he is as startled as I am. We hardly have time to dwell on it though, for little Aerlinn is stronger than one would expect from looking at her delicately made frame. She lifts the poker high and brings it down with a mighty crash sending sparks shooting high above, nearly to the ceiling. She squeals as I jump back, pulling her with me as the sparks shower down from above, and then flushes prettily when she realizes we are looking at her in some surprise.

“Excellent show, young Lady,” I tease her. “Ye must have some dwarfish blood in ye. Your hopes are bound to come true after that fine display.”

She says nothing, but merely beams with pleasure, and then hurries out when she hears her aunt calling her back to her duties. 

When Forodren, Hwiniol and Gaearon finally have a turn after the mid day meal, it becomes quite a competition to see who can raise the most sparks but when they turn to Legolas and myself to judges the contest, we have to agree that Aerlinn is still the clear winner. They go off to their duties grumbling good-naturedly and I am left with my elf to decide how we should spend the afternoon. He is ready with another suggestion.

“Molasses taffy,” he tells me.

“Molasses taffy? A good idea, but I hope ye know how to make it, for I haven’t the faintest idea,” I say.

“How should I know?” he replies, “I thought you would know. Mam made it for every single Mid Winter celebration and you are the one who lived with her for all those years. Surely you’ve seen her make it before.”

“Of course I’ve seen her make it, but I never paid heed to how it was done. I only knew how to eat it, not how to make it.” I think for a moment trying to recall watching her, but all I can come up with it, “She boiled something together and then stretched it or something.” 

“A lot of help you are,” he complains, “I suppose we’ll just go into the kitchen and mix something up to boil together.”

“Well it must have had molasses in it. Perhaps Mistress Glasiel knows.”

We both know it is our only hope. The good news is Mistress Glasiel does know. The bad news is we have no molasses. However she reassures us that honey should work just as well, though she’ll have to use the last of what we have on hand to make it. She is surprised when Legolas tells her we want to make it ourselves, and I can see it pains her to watch our fumbling efforts as she instructs us on what to do.   
“You must keep stirring, Lord Gimli, else it will scorch…careful, Lord Legolas you mustn’t touch the cooling batch too soon. It is as hot as melted wax and will stick to you  
even more so.”

It is easy to see that it takes all of her concentration not to yank the whole thing away from us and do it herself, but she clenches her fist and carries on giving directions. By the time she has us oiling our hands to pull the cooling mass between us, she is beginning to giggle despite herself. Pots and platters cover every surface so that a person can hardly touch a thing without sticking to it. We even have it stuck in our hair and I have a new found respect for my mother, who always made great batches of this stuff and never seemed to have a bit of trouble.

The results are rather dubious also. The first batch was inedible because I quit stirring for a moment because I was busy laughing at my elf who had honey dripping from his hair. It was scorched beyond recognition and had to be taken outside to prevent the kitchen being filled with smoke. Another batch had to be thrown out because Legolas put an elbow in the tray of it we had cooling on a table and then knocked it off just as Master Fimbrethil walked through and stepped in it leaving sticky footprints all over the kitchen.

Even the batches that didn’t get ruined, never did set up as they should, no matter how much we pulled it and kneaded it. It is supposed to harden enough to cut into pieces but ours just kind of melded together into one gooey blob. The taste was rather questionable too, though I blame Legolas for that. He was the one who had the bright idea of flavoring some of it with wintergreen berries. As it turns out, honey and wintergreen are not the best flavor combination. Not that it matters much, for even when I manage to get a small bit of the concoction into my mouth, it mostly just sticks my teeth together anyway.

So it seems that molasses taffy, or in this case honey taffy, won’t be on our list of celebratory foods this Winter Solstice! Still the mess and the wasted honey were worth it, for I don’t know when we’ve laughed so much in a very long time. If we wanted to make new memories, this was a good place to start for I am not likely to forget this day. 

XXXXX

 

It was mid-morning before I woke, and while I made a show of complaining to Gimli for letting me sleep for too long, it was only a halfhearted grumble because I feel so much better for the rest, not that I shall be telling my guardian that of course.

Now it is late evening, and we are sitting in companionable silence watching the sparks fly up the chimney. It has been a good day and I am feeling very happy because I hope that between us we may have managed to lay the ghosts of the last Yule on Arda to rest so that we can enjoy our winter celebrations here on Tol Eressëa from now on without dark dreams of my suffering and that of Gimli and others who loved me as I struggled with the sea longing.   
I really feel now that we can move forward, I am not so naive that I do not think there will be further setbacks of course there will. It is just that now we have spoken of those last months on Arda I do not believe they will haunt us with such intensity in the future.

It has been a good day, full of laughter and fun. We attempted to make Molasses Taffy as Mam used to make but made a complete mess of the whole thing and Mistress Glasiel’s kitchen in the bargain.   
She was very good about the whole thing, although I am sure she was itching to snatch the utensils out of our hands and consign our culinary efforts to the pig bin, although I think Hwiniol who cares for most of our livestock might have baulked at having his pigs fed on sticky toffee especially with the batch that had winterberries in it!

Master Lalvelion, my Adar’s chief cook, would have taken a wooden spoon to my backside if I had made as much a mess in his personal domain, but fortunately Glasiel is more tolerant, and while I am sure her hands itched she refrained from any criticism other than an occasional soft moan of distress as mine and Gimli’s efforts caused havoc in her usually immaculate kitchen. 

I will have to find some way to reward her forbearance, mayhap there is some new piece of kitchen equipment she would like, I will ask her niece Aerlinn about it tomorrow. And talking of Aerlinn, I know that Gimli was as intrigued as I was by her blessing for I caught his eye and was about to ask when he shook his head, letting me know that it was perhaps not the time but I am certain he will wish to inquire further into her thoughts for neither of us want any member of our staff to be unhappy.

“Ye are looking thoughtful lamb,” Gimli’s voice breaks into my musings

“Nay, merely thinking of Aerlinn’s blessing.”

“Aye, it was a strange one. We will have to keep an eye on the lass,” He looks into the fire for a moment or two before asking, “Is it usual for elves to follow their parents into work?”

I laugh, “I certainly did.”

Gimli tousles the top of my head, “Ye were a special case I deem. I was just wondering how easy it would be for a young ellon or elleth to do something different from their parents or carers if they wished to.”

“It is not unknown. Healers offspring become warriors, and vice-versa but it is often the case that families have a particular skill or trade that they pass on. Do you think Aerlinn is unhappy with her training as a housekeeper?”

“I don’t know. I just think it would be a good thing to watch and see for a little while longer. We don’t know our staff well enough yet to make a guess at their states of mind, although having said that,” he guffaws, “It wasn’a difficult to know what Mistress Glasiel was thinking when we were demolishing her kitchen.”

We both chuckle at that memory and I sigh contentedly as Gimli strokes my head as I lie next to his chair. It is so comfortable here and there is a feeling of ‘rightness’ about today and this winter season celebration.

Between us Gimli and I have vanquished a few ghosts, revisited some of both of our culture’s favorite Yule traditions and established a few new ones which we can carry forward into our new lives. The Yule log settles deeper into the grate and a few sparks fly of their own volition up into the chimney and my wishes and prayers go with them that I will have many more happy Yuletides here in our house in the valley of the elms with my stalwart guardian at my side.

As if he reads my thoughts Gimli raises his tankard, “I’ll drink to that Lamb. A blessed Yule to ye, son of my heart.”

I blink, and offer my own toast in return, “Blessed Yule Gimli Elvellon, second father and best of all friends.”


End file.
